


The Bottom Of The Glass

by 394percentdone



Series: How to Blow a Kiss to the Stars [4]
Category: The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: Angst, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-07
Updated: 2017-12-07
Packaged: 2019-02-11 16:27:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12939162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/394percentdone/pseuds/394percentdone
Summary: Juno didn’t deserve to know the name, Peter Nureyev. Didn’t deserve the memory of the man connected to it, the feel of his hands on Juno, or the scent of his cologne in his dreams.Juno has a dream, and then a drink.





	The Bottom Of The Glass

Juno closed his eyes and dragged his fingers along skin that had no right to be as smooth as it was under his scarred hands. “Nureyev” A name, a breath, a promise more than anything else it slipped through from his mind and tumbled out of his mouth.    
  
Flashing sharp teeth Nureyev replied in kind, Juno’s name sighing from between his lips and Juno chased after it for all it was worth, tracing the sound of his name in Nureyev’s mouth with his tongue. Nureyev’s cologne was thick in his nose, heady and addictive and  _ safe _ in ways Juno didn’t want to look at too closely. So instead he rocked his hips against Nureyev’s with increasing demand and ran a line of burning kisses from Nureyev’s mouth down to his collar. The choked noise Nureyev made was more than worth the effort. 

 

Juno set to work on undoing the remaining layers between them, starting with the buttons on Nureyev’s suit jacket. His fumbling fingers caught in the fastenings, and Nureyev’s hot laughter in his ears, Juno allowed for his hands to be guided under Nureyev’s, “Let me.” A clap of thunder, static lighting from the sandstorm outside rattled the building, and Nureyev’s form flickered. 

 

_ Flickered? _

 

Juno bolted upright, cold sweat sticking to the back of his neck. A dream, he could have laughed, or screamed, or even... It was a dream, another on a long list of punishments Juno no longer had the strength to examine. Red sand swirled outside his window, a scratching, grating sound accompanying it as the sand tried its damnedest to burrow through the walls and bury him alive in his own apartment. 

 

A bottle of whiskey glinted invitingly in the flickering light of the street lamps outside. It was right there, and Juno stood from his bed, the sweat-damp sheet falling to the floor around his feet, and took the single step to it. Grasping the bottle hard he unstoppered it and drank until the burn in his eye was replaced by a burn in his mouth. His hands shook as he shoved the cork back in the bottle, still gripping the neck hard enough to turn his knuckles white. 

 

“Nureyev” Juno felt a hot wave of shame roll through his gut, he didn’t deserve that name. Didn’t deserve the memory of the man connected to it, the feel of his hands on Juno, or the scent of his cologne in his dreams. Juno wasn’t even able to put himself together anymore, his vision blurred -from the drink or from... Another source Juno didn’t care enough to figure out. “I didn’t mean... I wanted so much to..” He couldn’t do it, in the swirling light of Hyperion City’s shitty street lights Juno Steel couldn’t bring himself to say out loud anything more than a sigh choked out around his regret. God, he couldn’t even say he was  _ sorry _ . And he was, Juno had played the part he always had and he had been the fool. 

 

What was he thinking, staying  _ here _ in this broken down apartment in a city that didn’t know his name when he could have... When he could have... 

 

Juno threw the whiskey bottle against his wall. The glass shattering against the cheap plaster like Juno’s composure. He didn’t sob, although he could feel it in his chest, the weight of his misery sitting in his lungs and making every breath he shuddered in and out agony. This was his mess, the one he had chosen and made for himself and now here he was, wallowing in his own self-pity  _ again _ . Juno never changed, not once in his goddamn life had he  _ ever _ taken the time and put his own problems aside for just a second and think about someone else. And this was the result. An empty apartment, an empty bottle, an empty life. 

 

Laughter, the sound harsh and hollow to his own ears spilled out of Juno, turning thick in his throat until it came out a rough cry. “Dammit, dammit,  _ dammit _ .” Juno wrang his hands through his hair, rough nails catching in his curls and pulling. “Nureyev, I,  _ God _ I hope you never forgive me.” His voice was quiet, barely audible over the sound of the sand outside, “I know I won’t.” 

 

Nureyev’s face flashed before Juno’s eyes -all sharp teeth and glinting eyes, a smile as hard as obsidian and twice as sharp formed around lips Juno had kissed and found softer than sin. Juno screwed his eyes shut, but the image didn’t fade, lingering in his mind until Juno curled himself down around his knees. He was burnt out, a waste in a city of wastes killing time before someone finally killed him. There was nothing for Nureyev here, not in this shell of a detective, a sharpshooter with one eye who would never land a solid shot again. 

 

Despair clawed its way up Juno’s chest, squeezing his heart in a way Juno thought might be familiar, “Would you,” Juno laughed his broken empty laugh, “No, you wouldn’t take me back. You’re too smart for that, and I can’t do anything for you anymore.” His eye burned, “Why am I even saying this, I’ll never.. I’ll never see you again will I.” It wasn’t even a question. Why would he even think it, a hopeless fantasy he couldn’t help but fixate on, an apology he couldn’t voice even to himself. 

 

So Juno did what he did best. He picked himself up off the floor and ignored the shards of shattered glass on the floor. It was early, even for an insomniac like Juno but hell, it wasn’t like he didn’t have anything to do. Juno picked up a thick case file from the next room and sat down with a heavy sigh and a heavier heart. He could head to the office, Rita wouldn’t be there for hours, but she would know the second she showed up if Juno went over this early and he’d get an earful of high pitched worry. And he couldn’t do that, not to Rita, she was the only person besides Mick he hadn’t been able to drive away yet. 

 

But he couldn’t focus, the details of the case swam before his eyes and Juno knew he wouldn’t make a dent in this even if he tried. He scrubbed his face with his hands, “I still can’t get you out of my head you know that Nureyev.” Juno muttered, “Every time I close my goddamn eyes I can still see you, in that stupid cheap hotel, asleep.” Juno’s voice breaks over the words, but now that he’s saying them they keep rushing and he can’t bring himself to stop. “You’re just, how the hell can you manage to sleep like that, peaceful and.. You trusted me. Why did you  _ trust me _ ?” 

 

“I don’t get it Nureyev, all of the fools in the world and you picked me. Me, a detective who can’t solve a case, who gets into more trouble than I’m worth, and I screwed it all up.” Hands in his hair Juno curls around himself, “I screwed it up just like always.” 

 

Juno stood suddenly, a fierce desire for a strong drink propelling him to his feet. “Forget it, you’ve probably forgotten about me by now. I hope you have because I’ll never be able to forget about you.” Juno shakes his head, hard, and tugs on his coat. The nearest bar is never closed, and he’s going to get that drink. 

 

__

 

In a room not as far away as Juno would like to imagine, a red light blinks on a slim device placed on a bedside table. A dark and elegant hand reaches out from between soft sheets and presses the center. Juno’s voice comes from speakers hidden somewhere in the thin recorder, “Nureyev… I didn’t mean-” 

 

Minutes pass in silence in the room as Peter Nureyev listens to Juno’s words before the master thief breathes a sigh colored with a deep longing sadness. “Oh Juno,” The words fade into the night, heard only by their speaker as Nureyev clutches the tiny recorder close to his chest, “I could never forget you.” 

**Author's Note:**

> I love Juno but he's a fucking idiot. Also, I fucking *know* Nureyev is keeping tabs on Juno, there's no way he's not... please let him be keeping tabs on this lovestruck fool.


End file.
